


Forgotten But Not Lost

by SwanAuthor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Car Accidents, F/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanAuthor/pseuds/SwanAuthor
Summary: Captain Swan Feels and FluffWith a few liberties taken, a one-shot in response to the following prompt from Promise_Worthy:"Post Season 7 alternate universeI just had a thought, what if, a year after being married to Emma, Killian Jones is in a car accident and loses his memory.And what if the last thing he remembers is being chained on top of Beanstalk in Season 2 of OUAT Episide 6 I think it was?What will Emma do? Will Killian get his memories back? And what will he make of his daughter Hope?"
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Forgotten But Not Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Promise_Worthy's prompt, and I've found I enjoy writing Killian Jones' Internal struggles. 
> 
> Please let me know your feedback on this story. Magic has a very minor role, so I felt that I couldn't approach the conflict by using curse-breaking techniques. I'm curious to hear what people think.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

His head is throbbing.

He thinks it must be because the giant lied to that infuriating woman and has actually decided to kill him.

But he’s still breathing.

Why would the giant leave the job half finished?

Hook wills his eyes to open.

The first thing he sees is Swan, unconscious not far from him, leaning against a black circle.

Did the same assailant that attacked him hurt her as well?

They aren’t in the giant’s castle any longer. One look around the small enclosed space they seem to be trapped in confirms that for him. There’s a pane of broken glass in front of them, and the window to his side reveals a darkened sky and wooded terrain.

Hook notices he’s restrained, but not by his wrist any longer. There’s a cloth strap trying to pull his chest back toward a seat of some kind, and there appears to be a similar strap around Swan as well. A quick flick of his hook frees him from the contraption.

He assesses what resources are available to him. He doesn’t know where he is, how he got here, or why he’s once again with Swan.

He needs more information, and he needs to find a way to gain an upper hand here.

Swan may have the answers he needs, but the last time he aligned himself with her, she left him chained in a giant’s lair.

If he weren’t so close to his goal, he might find her challenges appealing. But the Crocodile is within reach—he just needs to make it to the Land Without Magic, and he will finally have his revenge.

Swan isn’t worth the trouble. No doubt she would only try to stop him. He’ll leave her here just as she left him, and he’ll find his own way.

He turns and shatters the glass window with his hook, using his right arm as a shield against the tiny shards that fall against him.

A smell of smoke hits his nostrils, and Hook realizes that whatever they’re trapped in must be burning.

Someone must have planned a slow death for them—hoping they would remain unconscious and burn alive within the compartment.

Hook may be willing to leave Swan behind, but not to face certain death.

He frees her from the straps and lifts her towards him. He then pulls himself out of the small window, and once his feet are firmly planted on the ground, he grabs Swan.

The movement doesn’t wake her, and Hook wonders just how badly she’s injured. His right arm supports her shoulders, and he snakes his left arm under her knees as he hauls her out of the strange prison.

He carries her a distance away and takes in their surroundings. There are woods on either side of a paved lane, and a blanket of snow covers the ground. He can see tracks along the lane and realizes that they lead to the now burning cell.

A prison cell on wheels? Hook doesn’t understand this place. Again, he thinks about how he needs answers, and at that moment, he feels Swan stir in his arms.

Hook recognizes this is no way to conduct an interrogation, and he knows Swan will not give him answers easily.

He heads to the woods and finds a tree that will meet his needs. He sets Swan against it and removes the scarf from her neck. It’s not as sturdy as rope, but it will do for his purposes.

He crouches down and ties Swan’s hands behind the tree with the scarf.

She groans in a way that makes Hook question his actions, but it’s taken him centuries to reach this moment, and he won’t let one woman’s discomfort stop him.

“Time to wake, Swan,” he says, moving to stand over her.

She leans her head back, and Hook can see that she’s struggling to focus.

“Killian?” she whispers, and he’s caught off guard. She’s called him by his moniker ever since learning it.

“Swan, I need you to answer a few questions for me,” he begins, lowering himself to kneel in front of her.

“Normally I’d be more into this,” she replies, “but right now, I feel like I’ve just been hit by a truck.”

“What are you talking about, Swan?” Hook can guess, but he doesn’t know exactly what she means by being more into this, nor does he know what the devil a truck is.

“A deer jumped out in the road,” she explains. “I swerved and hit a patch of ice. That’s the last thing I remember. What about you?”

“I remember you leaving me in shackles to deal with a giant,” he answers.

“What?” Swan asks, her eyes suddenly much clearer. “That’s the last thing you remember?”

“Aye, lass. Now how about you start filling in the gaps like a good girl,” he says, lifting her chin with his hook to draw her face closer to his.

She casts her eyes downward, not looking at him.

“You don’t remember anything,” she says in a pained tone.

“I remember you acquired the compass and were hoping to make it back to your Storybrooke—without me getting in your way.”

“You were working with Cora at the time,” she says weakly, still fighting against the effects of her wounds.

“At the time?” he questions. “Are you saying I changed my allegiances?”

“It’s complicated,” Swan answers in one of her frustratingly evasive responses.

“Well, let’s try to make it less complicated. Where are we?” Hook demands.

“Listen Killian, something is clearly wrong,” she says, her teeth chattering from the cold. “We were just in an accident—even without your memories, you should understand what that means. I think we both have head trauma. We need to go to the hospital.”

“No, Swan. I know my revenge is near—I can almost taste it. Now tell me what I need to know.”

“You gave up your need for revenge years ago.”

“Why would I ever do that?”

“It’s a long story,” Swan begins. “You and the Dark One went back and forth with screw-ups and near death experiences until you both realized how pointless and self destructive your efforts were.”

Hook doesn’t believe her—he can’t believe her. If he gave up his quest for revenge, that means he’d given up on Milah’s memory. He knows all too well he would never forget the woman he loved.

“You’re wrong, Swan,” he tells her, needing her to understand the truth. “If you think I’ve given up avenging Milah, then I must have you believing some act. I must be biding my time, waiting to strike.”

“You know you can’t lie to me—and I’m an open book to you,” she says, her voice sounding more tired.

She is an open book to him, but he doesn’t know how she can be right about this. There are things he doesn’t remember, but no matter what he’s forgotten, it’s not possible that he would abandon his need to kill the Crocodile.

“How do I live each day knowing that monster still draws breath?” Hook demands.

“You found something else to live for, Killian,” she replies, shivering as she looks at him.

It’s tempting to listen to her, but he’s needed to destroy the Dark One for too many years to believe such an absurd tale.

He needs to make her see the mistake she’s made.

“And what is this something that I live for, Swan?” he whispers, moving in closer so that their lips are only inches apart. “Is it you? Have you offered me the warmth of your bed and body in hopes of keeping me distracted from my foe?”

“You didn’t have a chance with me until you stopped being a suicidal idiot willing to destroy a whole town just to kill your enemy,” Swan answers, and the anger in her tone seems to take a toll. “When you finally remember that, you’re going to regret this. Now look at my necklace if you don’t believe me.”

Her eyes then begin to droop before her body slumps, and she gives into unconsciousness once more.

He still can’t accept what she’s said. It just doesn’t seem possible.

But he doesn’t have any answers, and he doesn’t have any other options, so he reaches for the chain around her neck.

He expects the small swan pendant he’d seen her wear when they first met. Instead, the chain is long, and there’s some sort of weight to it. He pulls until he can see the object hanging there.

He holds the ring up with his hook, as he feels his own neck, trying to verify that the chain is truly gone from where he’d kept it the last few hundred years.

Liam’s ring is around Swan’s neck.

Hook knows he wouldn’t have handed it over without good reason. He never even let Milah wear it.

Why would he have given it to Swan?

He needs answers—more answers than he needed a few moments ago.

“Swan?” he says, trying to wake her. He repeats her name more loudly, and still there’s no movement.

They were together in that death trap. She calls him Killian now, rather than Hook.

She has his brother’s ring about her neck.

And she said he will regret his actions once he can remember the truth.

He needs to know what’s going on, and he’ll only be able to do that if Swan survives.

Hook quickly frees her wrists. He removes his jacket—and briefly wonders what he’s wearing, before wrapping the jacket around her.

He once again picks her up and this time carries her down the road, hoping to find some way to help her.

* * *

At the first signs of civilization, Hook realizes he’s exactly where he wanted to be.

The buildings around him all indicate that he is in the town of Storybrooke, and that his revengemay lie just around the next corner.

But feeling the burn in his arms from carrying Swan for miles, he knows his priorities have shifted. If he’s waited this long to kill the Crocodile, he can wait one hour longer until he knows what’s really going on here.

He needs to find a healer.

A blaring noise draws Hook’s attention to some sort of strange land vessel—with no horses pulling it.

The vessel stops in front of him, and its bright lights nearly blind him.

“Killian!” a male voice shouts. “What the hell happened? We’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Emma?”

The man has sandy blonde hair and a look of fear in eyes. He approaches Hook at a run and immediately inspects the unconscious woman between them.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” the stranger insists, after seeing Swan’s state. “And it looks like the doctors should see to that cut on your head too. We’ll take the truck.”

The hospital is where Swan had wanted to go—Hook remembers her saying that. He also now knows what she meant by a truck, seeing the man lead them to his vessel.

This stranger opens a door on the truck and then tries to take Swan from his arms.

Hook doesn’t understand the feeling of possessiveness that overwhelms him in that moment. A part of his mind believes he should just let this man take Swan and then return to his pursuit of the Crocodile. But another part of him protests. He needs to hear the truth from her, and until he does, Swan is his responsibility, his to protect.

The man must sense his hesitation, as he adds, “Let me help, Killian. She may be your wife, but she’s still my daughter.”

At those words, Hook loosens his grip. The shock is too much. He can understand the basics; his mind is functioning well enough for that. The man said that Swan is his daughter, which makes this stranger Snow White’s husband, Prince Charming.

But that she is also Hook’s wife…

He can’t believe it. He has never been the sort of man who would take a wife.

But then again, he never thought he would be the kind of man who would give up revenge or his brother’s ring, but Swan indicated that he’s done both of those things.

If that is truly the case, is it possible he married her?

Any why the hell would she marry him?

Charming has Swan in the truck by the time these thoughts race through his mind. The door to the vessel is left open, so that he can join them.

He can turn and walk away from all this nonsense; return to life he’s lived for centuries.

Or he can try to find answers to the riddles Swan has presented to him.

In the end, he boards the vessel, and that one decision makes him think that perhaps he is the sort of man who might turn his back on vengeance.

* * *

The hospital is a chaotic building with voices echoing from the ceiling and people milling about in all directions.

“Nurse!” Charming calls, drawing the attention of a woman to them.

Swan is once again in Hook’s arms. He insisted, and it somehow feels right to hold her.

The nurse has him lay her down on some sort of bed on wheels.

“We’ll take her back to the exam room now,” the woman explains, but it’s not enough for Hook. He moves to follow the woman and the two other nurses who’ve joined her, but Charming stops him.

“Let them do their work, they’ll call us when they know something,” the Prince says. “In the meantime, we need someone to look at that head wound of yours. Take a seat and I’ll find somebody to help you.”

Charming gestures toward a room of chairs, before going to speak to someone at a nearby desk.

Hook eyes the chairs and debates his options. He could just leave while Charming’s back is turned. Perhaps he could find his answers from someone else.

And what about Swan?

Can he just leave her as she left him on the beanstalk?

But she abandoned him because she needed to find a way home to her son, because she clearly had trusted people in her past who’d let her down, and because he hadn’t done anything to win her trust.

As Swan said, he was working with Cora at the time—such an alliance would never inspire the trust of good people…of heroes.

And yet Prince Charming is trying to help him right now. Emma Swan may now be his wife.

What sort of man is he now?

“Killian!” a woman’s voice calls from down the hallway.

Hook turns to see it’s Snow White running toward him. She quickly embraces him before asking, “Are you okay? David called. He said you and Emma were in some kind of accident.”

The words are spoken hurriedly, and there is obvious concern in her voice.

“The nurses took Emma,” he tells Snow, and he finds it odd to call Swan by her first name.

“Okay, let’s go sit in the waiting room. You don’t look like you should be standing.”

He wants to tell the woman he’s fine. He just needs to speak to Swan and then he’ll be gone, but his body is too tired to argue.

He lets Snow lead him to the chairs and rests for the first time in what feels like hours.

“Oh, and don’t worry—Hope is with Granny,” she adds, as if a statement about a grandmother’s hope should provide him with some comfort.

The Prince returns and hands him a cup of hot, dark liquid. “The doctor will see you soon. No updates on Emma yet,” Charming says before sitting next to his wife.

The beverage is sweeter than anything he would choose to drink, and it lacks the soothing burn of alcohol, but it’s warm and gives him something else to focus on than the thoughts running through his mind.

He has a wife. He’s married to Emma Swan.

The people next to him—Snow White and Prince Charming—are his extended family.

How is this his life?

And how much longer will it be his life?

Will she survive this? Did he delay too long with his interrogation?

Will she be right—will he regret his choices tonight?

He stands, unable to remain seated.

As he hears the couple behind him begin to protest, a woman approaches. “Mr. Jones? Would you follow me please?”

He sets aside the cup along the way and follows the woman to one of the many beds in this building. She asks if he’s hurting anywhere, and he doesn’t voice that his mind is hurting from the confusion he’s faced tonight.

The woman is interested in his physical wounds—not the battle his soul is enduring.

He only points to the cut on his head, and he permits her to perform odd tests on him. He follows the light she shines before his eyes; he extends his arm to allow a band to be tightened and loosened around it.

He decides that she must be satisfied with the results, because she moves on to cleaning the wound on his forehead. She places something along the cut to help it heal and instructs him on how to keep it sanitary.

Hook doesn’t bother to pay attention. The only information he wants is from Swan.

As the woman wraps up his treatment, he asks about the subject plaguing him. “Emma Swan—where can I find her?”

“Your wife was in the O.R., the last I heard. I can see if there are any updates. You can wait here if you’d like.”

He agrees to her offer. He doesn’t have the stomach to deal with Snow and Charming any longer.

He paces the room until a tall man with bright blonde hair enters.

“Hook, Emma’s out of surgery,” the man says. “She’s still unconscious, but we’ve stopped the internal bleeding. Looks like she won’t need a magical solution to this one.”

“What?” Hook questions. This realm is supposed to be the Land Without Magic.

“Oh you know—if things took a turn for the worst or if you’d shown up here any later—with Regina out of town, and it being past the fairies’ bedtimes, you may have needed to call in the Dark One to save her.”

Hook has always been quick to anger, and violence has always come naturally to him. Hearing this man’s words—after everything’s he’s been through tonight—it’s enough to push him over the edge.

He grabs the man by the lapel of his white coat and shoves him against the nearest wall.

“If you summon the Dark One here,” he begins his threat with words and ends it by brandishing his hook at the man’s face.

“Easy!” the man cries out nervously. “Nobody has to call Rumplestiltskin. She’s going to be fine. She’ll be awake in an hour at most, and out of here by tomorrow. And then you both can go back to making baby number two.”

“What?” Hook asks, lowering his prosthesis and loosening his grip as confusion settles over him. It was bad enough for this man to bring up possibly needing the Dark One’s help to save Swan’s life, and now he’s talking about a child.

His child.

With Emma.

“The whole town has a bet going,” the man explains. “The way you two never keep your hands off each other, people are guessing when she’ll be pregnant again. I can’t say I blame you. If I had a wife with an ass like that—”

He never learns the rest of what the man was going to say. His fist collides with the man’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

Hook doesn’t care if the man is a healer. Anyone who speaks about his wife in that manner—

He catches himself mid-thought. He’s considering Swan _his wife._

Is he truly accepting this version of things?

Is he willing to give up his life’s purpose for this?

Where would he be without his need for revenge?

He finds the answer to his questions in a room down the hall.

Without his thirst for vengeance, the woman lying in the bed would be his life, as would the child that they apparently share.

He isn’t the sort of man who should be a husband or a father. He’s lived a lengthy life filled with hate and bloodshed, and he can’t imagine being on any other sort of path. He’s been Captain Hook for too long.

But she calls him Killian.

She looked at him with love and concern when they first spoke, and with heartbreak when she realized he didn’t remember their life together.

She loves him.

Is that enough to allow him to overcome the darkness in his soul and be a better man?

Hook has doubts, but then he reflects upon his actions tonight. He had opportunities to run, to seek out his enemy, and to leave Swan behind. But for some reason he didn’t.

He sits on the bed and stares at the woman, wondering what their life is like.

Is it always a struggle for them? Does she have to fight to keep his vindictive and murderous side from lashing out?

“Hey.”

He hears her quiet voice and turns to face her.

Her hand seeks out his and gives a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

“Swan,” he replies hoarsely, uncertain what to say, but she takes the lead.

“I had a rough dream,” she says drowsily, fighting a losing battle against her need for sleep. “You were there.”

“Was I?” Hook questions, wondering what truths she might reveal in this state.

“You didn’t remember me. You didn’t remember _us_ ,” she replies. “You were gone, and the you that liked Cora was back.”

“I think I can say for certain that I never liked Cora, love,” he states, knowing the nature of his dealings with the woman.

“Don’t go,” she begs. “I can’t lose you again.”

How often had she lost him? And what caused their past separations?

He contemplates her plea—how she lost him before, how he may have returned to his former ways and abandoned her.

Just as his father abandoned him.

No—he refuses to believe that. No matter how cruel he’s become, no matter how irredeemable, he still believes in good form. He is still a man who would fight for what he wants.

He wouldn’t leave a woman he loves by choice.

But he remembers that he’s been separated from his love before.

Is the Crocodile a threat to them? Has that imp kept he and Swan apart?

And their child—is their child safe in a world where the Dark One has his powers?

Hook realizes he does want the life he sees before him. A woman who loves him and a child for them to raise together.

But he knows how fragile such joy is.

He needs to protect this new life. He needs to eliminate the one shadow that will hang over them forever if left unchecked.

Swan’s breathing is calm and even. She is once again asleep, but her fingers still hold on to Hook’s.

He eases out of her grip slowly, knowing that he needs to leave this place, skin a crocodile, and then perhaps one day, he’ll find some measure of peace.

Captain Hook is a villain, and villains are only meant for death and destruction.

And that may be the reason he’s here. Perhaps he can both satisfy his need for vengeance and provide security for this new family he’s found. Perhaps the Killian Jones that’s built a life here can’t manage this final act.

Perhaps a pirate’s skills are needed for this task.

He knows how dangerous the Dark One is, but if he’s not expecting an attack, that may give Hook an edge.

He needs to act—the sooner the better.

“Killian?” a voice says in a hushed voice from the doorway.

He already knows it’s Snow.

He needs to make some excuse and escape the woman, so that he can continue with his plan.

Hook turns to look at the woman and sees she’s not alone.

There is a bundle in her arms, wrapped tightly in a pink blanket.

“Granny dropped her off. David and I are going to watch her tonight, but I just thought Hope would enjoy seeing her parents before bedtime.”

Hope.

He and Emma have a daughter named Hope.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t protest when Snow places the baby in the bend of his left arm, leaving his right hand free to cup his daughter’s face.

She has Emma’s chin and locks of dark hair upon her head. The eyes that stare up at him are the same color as his, but they are filled with wonder and joy—not hate, sorrow, and regret.

Emma was wrong. He doesn’t need his memories to regret his actions. He looks at the small life in his arms and feels shame for all of his sins—past and present.

He needs to be worthy of this child and her mother.

He may not remember them, but they are his to protect and provide a home for. He knows now why Emma’s version of him has given up his quest for vengeance.

He’s found something more meaningful in his life.

Hope smiles at him as that thought passes through his mind. He smiles in return and feels a tear fall down his cheek.

“Are you going to stay here tonight, Killian, or do you want to head home? David or I would be happy to stay with Emma if you need some rest.”

“No,” he replies. “I’ll stay here.”

Emma asked him not to go, and that is exactly what he intends to do now.

“Okay,” Snow says. “But call us if you need anything.”

She moves to take Hope from his arms, and he reluctantly lets his daughter go. He tells himself that Hope will be safe. She has a mother, grandparents, and no doubt others who will help to keep her that way.

And she has a father.

He will spend every day letting this child know that she is loved and cared for, and that she means more to him than any petty desire for revenge.

Hope reaches toward him one last time, and he lets her take his finger in her tiny fist. She smiles at him and giggles in a way that warms every darkened corner of his heart.

“We’ll come back tomorrow to check on you both,” Snow says, and Hope seems to understand as she releases his finger.

He lets them leave without protest, and a feeling of exhaustion overwhelms him. The events of the evening have caught up with his body, and he feels a need to sleep. He debates lying down next to Swan, but the cords connected to her body concern him. He does not intend to cause her any further harm tonight.

He leaves the bed and pulls a chair up next to it, so that his hand can still hold Swan’s.

* * *

Killian doesn’t know where he decided to sleep last night, but his back informs him in the morning that it was a bad decision.

There’s an odd beeping noise he can hear before he opens his eyes, and he’s trying to place why it sounds familiar.

_The hospital._

His eyes shoot open, and he sits bolt upright in the chair, seeing Emma sleeping on the bed next to him.

_It wasn’t a dream._

The nightmare he had last night wasn’t just his imagination at work. He’d been Hook once more—and what sort of damage had he done?

He needs Emma to be awake. He needs to know that she’s okay, that she forgives him for his weakness and foolishness.

If he’d lost her…

He can’t think about that. He knows he will never return to the way he once was. Not only does Emma need him to be a better man, but Hope needs him as well. The women in his life mean everything to him, and he will not fail them.

Emma starts to stir, and his eyes turn toward her face in time to see her awaken.

“You came back,” she says, looking at him closely.

“Aye, love,” he replies. “I’m home.”

* * *

Three weeks later, Killian is still making every meal they eat at home.

“You know you don’t have to keep doing that,” Emma says, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist as he stands in front of the stove.

“Aye,” he answers. “But perhaps I enjoy doing it, love.”

He can practically feel the eye roll she gives him from behind his back, but he doesn’t care. His wife is safe and healthy, and he has everything he could want in the world.

Once she fully regained consciousness and her strength, Emma was able to use her magic to speed her recovery, and Killian was immensely grateful for her gifts in that moment.

The guilt over the incident still plagues him, but Emma either kisses him until he forgets his failings, or she puts their child in his arms. Hope always has a way of lifting his spirits and making him feel like a person who deserves to be loved. With just a smile from his daughter, he becomes a new man, washed clean of his sins.

“What if I’m hungry for something other than pasta?” she asks.

“You already had a grilled cheese for lunch, and I cannot permit you to have two of those greasy monstrosities in a single day,” he replies.

“What if I’m not hungry for food?” she says, before kissing her way up his neck and nipping on his earlobe.

Typically, he would insist that Emma eat something to keep up her strength and her health. But the way her lips and hands move along his body, he knows he won’t win that argument tonight. And right now, he doesn’t want to.

He sets down the spoon and turns off the stove.

Hope is with her grandparents for the night, their deputy Leroy is on duty at the station, and Killian cannot resist the temptation of his wife.

_His wife._

He turns around to face Emma.

She pulls him closer with a tug to the compass that he keeps around his neck at all times. Inside the small silver case is a picture of Emma and Hope, and a lock of hair from both his girls. He carries them near his heart always now, and should he ever forget himself again, he need only look inside to find his way home.

And he never lets Emma remove his brother’s ring.

_If she hadn’t been wearing it…_

He doesn’t allow himself to finish the thought. His wife is alive, he is alive, and they are going to continue to share this life together. He deepens the kiss as Emma undoes the buttons of his shirt, and they both start moving toward the living room sofa.

Dinner can wait.

Besides, there’s a town bet he intends to win.


End file.
